That Which Swallows The Light
by ShadowedLamp
Summary: Central is a dark city. Inside of it, Roy Mustang faces difficult decisions, Scar waits for the right victim, monsters lurk in the shadows, and a woman tries to figure out where she fits into everything. Life crosses from manageable to scary to out of control, and it's difficult to tell who can be trusted. [Basically, the story between the lines of what we know.]
1. Amanda: People

"Oh, over there!" Melissa hisses at me. She groans as I turn and look. "Not like that! Subtly."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, okay. But what am I supposed to be seeing?"

She gestures in the specified direction with her chin, and smiles. "That's Colonel Mustang!" she explains, voice still lowered. "He's new in Central, but he was the youngest State Alchemist before the Fullmetal Alchemist, and he's been climbing the ranks like lightning!"

I give a small moan. "I didn't know you cared about military ranking."

Melissa flicks me. "Don't be an idiot, of course I care. It's my line of work."

"Well, it's not mine." I retort, pushing a strand of hair back behind my ear.

Melissa's lips draw together in a thin line, and she kind of squints at my face for a second. Then she whips out her purse and takes a shiny tube of lipstick from it. I wait for her to apply it, but instead, she leans close to my face, cups it in her hands, and starts to put it on _me_.

" _Melissa!_ " I squirm out of her grasp, but it's futile. I can't escape her without making a scene.

"Hold still!" She fixes it, and dabs at my makeup with a tissue she also took from her bag. No one seems to be paying attention, so I don't object again. Part of me enjoys this, but the other half of me is severely uncomfortable with the whole thing.

"You can pull off black..." She murmurs to herself, and snatching off my glasses she begins applying eyeliner and mascara. I force myself to sit through the treatment, promising myself that Melissa will never again drag me out of my comfortable home to a bar to speculate about guys.

She pulls my hair out of it's bun, and ruffles it, completely messing it up. I sigh again, probably for the tenth time tonight. "What are you doing?"

"Well, you can't go talk to Colonel Mustang looking like that!" She answers. I accept her logic, since Melissa knows how people work, while I spend time trying to avoid having to do anything besides cut them open.

"Why don't you go talk to the Colonel without me?" I suggest, trying one last time to derail her plans.

"Of course not! The whole point of tonight is to get you to loosen up and unwind. My going to enjoy myself would be beside the point. You need to relax a little and have some fun!" She answers, tugging me from my seat and toward the group of women clustered around the man I assume is the Colonel. I am not anxious to join them, but there will be no swaying Melissa.

One woman is telling a story about how she knew a man in the military who was accidentally mistaken for the criminal he was trying to catch. I didn't think it was especially clever, and most of it was undoubtedly exaggerated. Probably what really happened was that his friend commented on how how similar the two men looked while they were booking him, and it evolved into a funny story to tell his girlfriend.

Everyone laughed, and one of the girls asked the Colonel if there were any special criminals that he'd helped to put away, causing him to launch into a list with (admittedly) humorous descriptions of the kinds of criminals he'd helped jail, and then swung into a tangent of how once they'd accidentally arrested someone for terrorism when all that had really happened was some pipes blew in the winter due to bad plumbing arrangements, and some poor civilian had happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I smiled, willing myself not to laugh, especially when everything came out alright in the end. He did seem like a nice enough person, but he wasn't _my_ type of guy. He breathed and ran in the popular track, he seemed to understand people. People understood him. From the looks of him, he could fit in anywhere he liked. I wasn't even supposed to be here.

"Melissa," I whisper in my friend's ear. "It's not that I'm not grateful or anything, but can I go home now?"

"Now?" Melissa whispers back. I can sense the disappointment in her eyes. "But you haven't done anything yet!"

"Okay." I pause and think for a moment, deciding to see this as something of a dare. This entire outing was supposed to be a 'girl's silliness night', so I would just pretend I wasn't me for now and be silly, if that's what Melissa required to let me go home. As much as she says this is for me, I'm sure it's really for her. She wants me to understand her and how she works. I can't understand her, but I can pretend that I do.

"How's this for a deal," I start. "You dare me to do one thing. When I do it, I can go home. That way, I can experience this 'fun' you keep alluding to, and I can also not be a complete wreck tomorrow."

"Deal." Melissa hesitates, then whispers, "Ask Mustang to have a drink with you."

I don't even stop to think about it. "No."

"Fine. Ask _someone_ to have a drink with you."

"Okay, that I can do." How hard could it be?

Together, we look around as subtly as possible. There are scores of people here, but only a few who don't have a date. There's Colonel Mustang, who seems to be here only to attract and hang out with big groups of women, there are a couple of shady looking people, one or two guys whose acne reveals them to be under aged, a middle aged man at the bar, and one other man, who is reasonably handsome, but doesn't seem to have a date either. I can tell that Melissa has noticed this last man about the same time as I have.

"Him."

"Sure."

"Have you done this before?"

I give her a flat look that says, "What do you think?" and she chuckles. "Just act natural then, that's all that matters. Remember: he's probably dying for a girl to talk to him, and you're very attractive. Don't lose confidence." She shoves me forward. "Okay, go!"

I hold back a snort. I know that men are not likely to find me particularly attractive. My skin is darker than the Amestrian ideal, and though I know my hair is blonde, it is almost white. It looks unbalanced. But I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a dark window, and pause a second. I do look cute. I never wear makeup, but this feeling I'm getting just from looking at my reflection makes me question the decision. I glide toward the bar with bolstered confidence.

"Hey," I say, suddenly losing all aforementioned confidence.

"Hi." The man turns to me, and I can see his gorgeous blue eyes with unexpected clarity.

I try not to fidget, apologize, or run away from this. "Are you here with someone?" I ask, deciding to be as direct as possible. I'll never meet this man again, so what does it matter if he turns me down? Why should I even care?

"No, why?" he asks, leaving me an opening. I am more grateful to him than I can express.

"I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?" I asked, wondering how I managed to not wince, or show any of the emotions I was feeling. It was one thing to read about an interaction like this in a novel, but _this_? It felt so much more awkward in real life.

"That sounds amazing." He pulled out one of the bar stools for me, and I carefully perched myself on it.

I feel like I've reached my limit, but I smile at him, and wave to one of the bartenders. He comes over, and asks if he can help me, so I order the first thing I see, some kind of brandy, and then look to the stranger to see what he'd like. After he's ordered and the bartender goes, fetches our drinks, and sets them in front of us, I feel much more at ease. I take a sip of the brandy, and find that I don't like it at all. I've never really had alcohol before this, but it surprises me how unpleasant I find it. Still, I feel that I have to drink it to keep up my front.

"I'm Amanda Barlowe by the way," I tell him. "What's your name?"

"Jean Havoc," he answers. "Nice to meet you."

"So Jean, what kind of work do you do?" I ask. It seems like a safe enough question.

"I'm a soldier. Mostly do paperwork though, or the tedious things people with a higher rank don't want to do. What about you?"

"Well, I'm assistant to a doctor from one to six, I work as a mechanic in the mornings, and on the weekends I help out at a convenience store." I deliberately don't describe the details of my job, that the doctor I help is a coroner, and that I mostly clean things, make tea, deliver lunch, and run basic errands for the doctor. It sounds less glamorous. Someday, when I make enough money, I want to go to medical school and become a doctor myself. But my parent's deaths, the apartment, and my little sister have sucked away most of my money, including my inheritance, so until I can hold onto a little cash, no medical school.

"So you're like a nurse?" He asks.

I give a little laugh. "More of an aide, I guess." It's time to change the conversation before he asks about what _that_ entails. "Have you been in Central long?"

"Not really, just a couple weeks."

"What do you think of it?"

"I like it okay. I tend to get involved in the life of a new place as quickly as possible when I move."

"Do you move a lot?"

"Only occasionally, but sometimes it feels like a lot." He takes a drink and finishes about half the glass. "How long have you lived in Central?"

"All my life." I take a modest sip of my brandy. "I always thought it would be nice to travel... but I somehow couldn't ever get it to happen."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be. Leaving relationships is hard."

"Difficult breakups?" I ask, reading into the comment.

"Well, friendships too, but yeah, I've had some pretty tough breakups. I'm usually transferred right when I feel that a relationship is going somewhere."

"Have you ever been in love with someone you were transferred with?" I'm a little surprised at myself. Prying into a stranger's love life? I feel like a different person.

"Not really. There's a military policy against that kind of thing. If two soldiers are caught in a relationship, it usually ends with one or both of them being transferred in opposite directions."

"Oh." I don't know how to respond to that.

"Doesn't stop them from happening though," he adds.

"What's it like, being in the military?" I've entertained ideas of joining the military, but the idea of being stuck at the bottom and doing grunt work forever just seems... hopeless. Even if the pay is fairly good.

"Not too bad. It can get pretty intense sometimes, but you automatically have a lot in common with the people around you. If you're lucky and end up with coworkers you like it can be pretty amazing. If not... well, it can be hell."

Well, at least he's honest. I grow brave and swallow down the rest of the brandy. I feel awful, but I'm sure that'll pass.

"Do you have any hobbies?" he asks me.

I pause and consider that a bit. "I like to read. I dabble a little bit in alchemy, but I'm not especially good at it. Do you have any?"

"Not really. I don't have a whole lot of spare time for hobbies."

"Oh, I can see that, I guess." I try hurriedly to think of a way to keep the conversation going. "I've heard of some pretty crazy hobbies though. I know one person that would buy a pack of gummy worms every Saturday."

"Is that a hobby?" Jean gives me this quizzical look that makes me want to laugh.

"Not exactly. Every Saturday, he'd go to a different construction site, open the bag, pop one in his mouth, keep it there until it got slimy... Then he'd toss it up and see if he could make it stick to the ceiling."

"What a mess! Did he ever get in trouble for it?"

I grin. "No one ever caught him. I think it was a horrific waste of gummy worms though."

"Pretty gross too. But it's more interesting than collecting stamps or cards of whatever sort, or watching birds."

I agree.

His gaze is drawn by something behind me, and I turn and look to see the Colonel getting up and stretching a bit before looking for his wallet. I turn back to Jean, unsure why he should have noticed.

"I've really enjoyed chatting with you," he says, pushing the stool back from the bar. "It looks like I'd better go. Think I could get your number?"

I feel my face heat up, and hope he'll simply attribute it to the alcohol. "Sure." I find a scrap of paper, and grab a pen from the counter to write it down, then hand it to him with my name and number on it.

"Thanks." He smiles, tucking it away into one of his pockets, and then stands. I realize for the first time, that he is really tall. It hadn't hit me before just how muscular he is too... "Goodnight Miss Barlowe."

"Goodnight Mr. Havoc." I reply, wondering why he's leaving with Colonel Mustang. Is it possible that they're related? No... Mustang is shorter, and looks entirely different to Jean. There's no real resemblance between them at all.

I put the question out of my head, and pay the bill for the drinks before going to look for Melissa. She's sitting in a corner near the back where she's had a good look at the whole interaction. Her glass is empty too, and she leaves money on the table with the glass.

"I couldn't hear a thing, but it looked like it went well," she observed. "Did you have fun?"

"...yeah." I admit, realizing it myself for the first time. I don't want to explain to Melissa that I've never dated anyone, this is the most romantic thing that I've ever done. And it wasn't a real gesture, just a drink. We could hardly be considered anything except acquaintances, if that. But I felt like a different person, and that was something.

"I knew you'd enjoy it!" She chirps beside me.

I smile. Melissa's the outgoing one. This entire thing is completely up her alley, but I have no intention of making a habit of this. "I get first dibs on calling the next outing though."

She groaned, rolling her eyes up in mock horror. "Please no! You'll probably have us sit in some wretched library forever!"

"Hey!" I complain. "The library is amazing! And I would never insist on it as being a place for a group outing!"

"It will be something equally bad then," she decides. "Hey, want me to give you a ride home?" she asks as we reach her car.

I shake my head. "Thanks, but I think I'll walk home. It'll help me process what you just forced me through."

She bites her lip. "It's not really safe on the streets at night... They say that there are some pretty dangerous criminals loose."

"It's okay. I'm pretty tough," I say, starting away. "Thanks though!"

* * *

It's a relief to be alone. I like people, but I've always gotten my energy from not being around them. I can still feel the lights and the noise of the bar pulsing inside of me, maybe more than I did when I was actually in the situation. I forced most of it out by talking to Jean, but the effort has left me exhausted.

After walking for about a half hour, I get to my apartment building. It's a crumbling brick place on the bad side of town. Melissa wasn't kidding about unsavory characters being around here. There was a murder several weeks ago, and then uniforms running around frantically before catching the killer, who lived the floors up from where I live. (The only reason they cared was because it was one of their precious State Alchemists that was killed.) It can be disconcerting, but it's cheap, and I can do whatever I want to it. I live on the bottom floor on the south side, slam in the middle. It's cheapest, because my front door is in the middle of a dark alleyway with no parking capabilities. I like it though. It scares away solicitors, and reminds me of horror and crime novels that I've read. I bet no one would even briefly consider robbing my place, because all I have are practical things, and they would have to walk through that alley.

As I pass through, I trip over a sleeping figure and am sent sprawling. Immediately I leap up, trying to see who it was. It's a little girl. My stepping on her caused her to jerk awake and look around. My best guess is that she's twelve or thirteen, though she is quite small, so maybe she's younger? She had an unusual looking cat curled up next to her, and now it's reared up on its hind legs, trying to appear ferocious.

"I'm so sorry!" I gasp out. "I didn't see you..."

The girl lets down her guard and looks embarrassed. "I didn't think anyone would be walking through this way..." she admits.

I blink. "Do you need a place to stay for the night?" I ask. I don't really feel like putting her up, but I'm reminded a little of my sister, seeing this girl laying here alone. If my sister was in trouble, I'd want someone to help her, right? And people have helped me so much in the past, the only way I can pay them back for it is to try to do a little for someone else.

"Yes..." The girl seems reluctant, so I have to be extra welcoming.

"I bet you're hungry too?" her eyes light up, and I know I've hit on something. "Come with me. You can stay as long as you need to, and I'll fix us both some supper." I turn and walk a little ways down to where my door is before pulling out the key and unlocking it. She is right behind me. Mentioning food must have calmed her a little bit.

I turn the light switch so that my lights come on, and shut the door behind her. While I am taking off my shoes, I remember that I have almost nothing left. I'm going to have to make whatever is in the kitchen work, because all the stores I go to must be closed at this time of night.

"So, what were you doing, sleeping in the alley like that?" I question her as I walk into the kitchen and start some water boiling on the stove. I have pasta, some bell pepper and carrots, and some cheese. That's it. It'll have to do.

"Xiao Mei and I have been traveling, and I ran out of money. It was getting late, so we had to find somewhere to sleep, and we thought that no one would probably go through there."

"Is Xiao Mei your cat?"

"She's like a sister to me! We go everywhere together." I smile. While that didn't answer my question, it kind of did.

"Where have you been traveling from?" I start cutting up the bell pepper into chunks.

"Xing."

I almost cut my finger off. "All the way from there? Why?"

For a second there's silence. I look back over my shoulder to make sure she's still there, and I see that she's adopted a very somber expression. "To gain immortality."

"Immortality?"

"My father is the Emperor of Xing—"

"The _Emperor_? And he lets you go around on your own like this in a foreign country?"

"He has many wives and concubines, so he has too many children to care what they all do," she explains. "No... that's inaccurate. He doesn't really care about any of us. We have to compete to become heir. My father is getting old, and lately he's grown very ill, so we are all looking for a way to preserve our own clans. I'm determined to get hold of the secret of immortality. If I do, he'll surely choose me as his heir, and I'll be able to protect my clan from being destroyed."

"There's a chance that could happen?"

Her lip quivers. "Our house is very weak, and we are almost always ignored. If I don't protect it by becoming the Emperor, we will fade from existence."

I try to digest what she's told me. "So you're looking for the secret of immortality?"

She nods earnestly. "The philosopher stone."

For the second time, I nearly cut my finger off. This is conversation is insanely dangerous for me. I might lose my whole hand soon! "The philosopher stone?"

"Yes! There is a theory that it could grant immortality."

I shake my head. "The philosopher stone is a fairytale! And even if it wasn't, if you make your dad immortal somehow, won't he just rule forever? If that happens, your house will _still_ be ignored. Isn't there some other way to protect your clan?"

She shook her head, and said nothing.

I sighed, and poured the pasta into the boiling water. "I'm sorry. It must be tough."

Still no response.

"Well, I have a guest bedroom. Now that supper's cooking, I can show you around a bit." I gesture behind me. "This is the kitchen." Then I walk out back to where we entered my house. "This is the living room." The living room is comprised off a table pushed against the wall, meaning it serves as my dining room also, and a couch shoved in a corner by a bookshelf. I walk down the hall. "This is the bathroom, then there's my room, the closet is the one on the end, and this is the guest bedroom." I walk into the guest bedroom. It has an empty closet, and a small twin bed with a quilt laid over it. I feel my throat close in on itself, and fire burns behind my eyes. I haven't been in this room in weeks. "Will this do for you and Xiao Mei?" I ask opening the door wider so she could come in.

She tears up. "Thank you for letting me stay here!"

I smile. "It's my pleasure. Feel free to stay as long as you want or need to. I bet it'll be nice not to have to move around too awfully much."

She stiffens, and I wonder what I've said wrong this time. "Oh no!" She brings her hands to her mouth.

"What's wrong?" I frown, trying to guess what it is so I can find a way of handling it.

"I completely forgot!" Her face turns to sheer horror. "I wasn't just by myself... I was waiting for Mr. Yoki and his servant to come back!"

I feel my eyebrow twitch. "Who?"

"They're two men I started traveling with," she answers. "I just met them yesterday, but we're traveling together now, and they're going to help me discover the secret of immortality."

"Oh..." I feel my spirits deflate a little. I was getting kind of into this, even though I hadn't been prepared for visitors.

"So... I guess I can't stay with you." She looks disappointed.

"Are they going to have somewhere to sleep, or are you all going to end up sleeping in some other alley?" I ask.

"I don't know," she admits. "They had business somewhere else and told me they'd come back.

"Well, we can go and check to see if they're back yet," I suggest. "And if they're not, you can just stay and have supper with me until they are."

"Thank you." She smiles. The light is coming back into her face, so I go to check the alley. There isn't anyone there yet, so I return to the kitchen, and cut the carrots into sticks. The girl returns to the kitchen, and finds a place to sit. I go and check outside again, and see two men in the alley. Shutting the door, I turn back to the kitchen.

"Um, what's your name again, Miss?" I ask.

"Mei Chang."

"Uh... Miss Chang, are these the men you were talking about?" I ask, and she comes over.

"Yes." She answers, before she even looks out the door.

I'm curious how she can tell, but I step outside, and she follows.

One of them is dark skinned with light hair, like me. The other has dark hair, and looks like a cartoon villain I've seen in the paper. The one with the funny mustache and who always cheats while driving in a race with other crazy drivers.

I try to say something, but I can't get my voice to come out at first. I invited Mei to stay. It wouldn't hurt me if a couple more people stayed, and all of my previous reasons applied. They had no reason to kill me, no reason to abduct me, no reason to steal from me, or to do anything like what could happen in the novels I liked to read. I was blessed from God, so I could afford to help someone else who was in trouble.

"Do you need a place to stay for the night?" I ask, voice finally coming out firm.

The dark skinned man fixes his eyes on me, and I am thrilled beyond belief to see that they are red. Now I have another reason to invite them in. The dark haired man looks to me first, then to the taller one.

"We should be on our way," He says, turning away.

"No!" I almost clamp my hands over my mouth, but then I don't. I feel like I did at the bar, and am not myself. The normal me would never insist on anyone doing anything, but would always bend to the wishes of the other person. "It's not fair to Mei. She fell asleep in the alley. Anyone could be out here, muggers, killers, anyone! But she wants to travel with you, so she won't stay the night, even though there's plenty of room. Are you really going to make her travel again?"

Silence. He is thinking it through.

"And also—you're Ishvalan, right?"

The man stiffens. "Yes."

"I couldn't live with myself if I was inhospitable to..." I realize I don't know how to end the sentence. My people? My grandmother's people? My family? I'm only a quarter Ishvalan, but it's a part of myself I embrace deeply, even if I didn't have enough blood in me to warrant death. "One of us," I finish.

The man turns back around, and I see that he's putting a bit of it together himself. "We won't trouble you long," he amends. "Since you feel strongly about it."

I exhale deeply, surprised at myself, but contented with the way things turned out. Something inside me is hungry to know more about him, to talk to him a bit.

"Mr. Yoki! Did you get more food?" Mei asks the black haired man. I frown. She said that it was Mr. Yoki and his servant she was traveling with, right? If the black haired man was Mr. Yoki, then that would make the Ishvalan man his servant. But the atmosphere I picked up from them was completely reversed, that the Ishvalan was in charge, and Mr. Yoki served him. If that.

"It should last us several days." Yoki sounded proud of himself.

"My home is this way." I interrupted, before the conversation could start in full swing. I walk back to my house with Mei following me, and Yoki following her, and the Ishvalan man following behind them.

"I wasn't prepared for so many... But two of you can start eating if you like, and when I've made more, the other person can eat with me." I dish the now-cooked pasta into two bowls, and sprinkle cheese (which quickly melts) over it, along with bell-peppers, and add carrot sticks to the table, in a mug. "I'm sorry it isn't much.

The three of them sit down at my table, the Ishvalan not eating, and Yoki and Mei partaking in my cheesy pasta. I start heating more water, and cutting more pepper. To my surprise, there isn't much discussion really in the other room. I expected Mei to start talking about something, though I'm not sure why. The Ishvalan man says nothing (huge surprise, right?), and Yoki seems too ill-at-ease to do anything but eat.

Finishing my pepper as quickly as I know how, I walk into the other room, and peep out to see what's going on. It's just like I'd figured. "I'm so sorry about this; I'll go get groceries tomorrow as soon as possible."

"We won't continue to impose on you," says the Ishvalan with a tone of finality. He cannot possibly be Yoki's servant, he's used to being the one to call the shots.

"Will you be in Central long?" I find myself asking. He considers me solemnly, then gives a brief nod. I tilt my head up and adopt an air of control that I do not feel. "Then you'll stay here. You don't have anywhere else to stay, and it's not good for anyone to be alone on the streets. I won't keep you in Central if you have business elsewhere, but if you don't have anywhere to stay, I won't allow you to sleep on the street when there's plenty of room here."

"Actually, it's not safe for us to stay in one place very long." For once, Yoki actually speaks up for himself addressing me.

I blink. "This is probably the safest place for you then. I rent here because it's cheap. Soldiers don't usually come down because it's such a mess it's generally easier for them to turn a blind eye to it, and drug lords, loan sharks, and other people keep their distance from the living quarters, because they're afraid of creating a stir and getting the military set on them." It's a weird kind of logic. "No one will really look twice for you here, whoever you're running from." I'm assuming it's a gambling issue or something of the sort. It seems like truly unsavory characters are too far from my personal life to be sitting in my house, so I decide that it has to be a mild problem.

"Oh, I see." He looks to the Ishvalan. "Well then sir..."

The dark skinned man shrugs, but says nothing, as if the matter is clearly out of his hands, and would require too much work to deal with.

Mei looks exhausted, so I take her empty plate, and show her to my room. It'd be better for her to use my bed. I could at least continue to use my room then. I can put the men in the other room, and on the couch. Let them decide that between themselves.

"If you want, you can take the other room," I tell Yoki. "The bed is already made up." After delivering the message, I go back into the kitchen to strain the pasta, mix it with cheese, and add the pepper. I scrape it into two more dishes (which is really pushing my stock of bowls) and bring the food into the living room. Unsurprisingly, Yoki is gone. I hand one of the bowls and a fork to the man, and sit down across from him to eat mine.

I get no conversation either. I feel like I'll be a horrible nuisance if I try to get him to talk, and I've already insisted he stay in my house, although it clearly made him uncomfortable. The least I could do is give him some privacy.

"I have work in the morning," I finally say, scraping up the last few pieces of pasta and finishing them off. "So I'll be gone. You can leave the dishes, I'll get them before I go out. Feel free to sleep in or whatever. I'll make up the couch so you'll have somewhere to sleep. Sorry I only have two beds. Tomorrow you can work out whatever with Yoki." I dump my dishes in the kitchen sink, and get some sheets to put over the couch. While I'm making up the couch, he looks at me. I realize that his expression has not changed a bit since he's come in from the alley. It's the same glowering look. What have I gotten myself into? I decide to ignore him and work on tucking the sheets in.

"Why?"

I start. It was the most unexpected sound I could have heard at that moment. "Huh?" I look back over my shoulder.

"Why are you letting us stay here?" My fork has been forcefully mashed in his grip, and is now a metal noodle. His knuckles are almost white as he continues clutching at it, forcing it into a smaller and smaller shape.

"Not so you could destroy my forks!" I chide, mind racing as I tried to find a way to explain myself. I walk over, and try to break his grip. I know that they're cheap forks, but man! He completely obliterated this one! When my fingers initially touch his hand, he jerks, as if stung by the physical contact. As I try to pry the fork from his fingers, he slowly relaxes, and lets me have it. I sigh, sitting down at one of the chairs, examining the damage.

"I have a friend that is convinced that there's no light left in the world." This fork is now a chopstick. Holding it, I can feel the energy that went into mashing it up. "And he's right, sort of. People are evil, and their evil sinks into everything around them. People kill each other, and do evil, horrible things. It makes you want to go to sleep and never wake up." I sigh again, thinking about Knox. "He's stronger than me. He can face that reality, and keep living. But I can't live like that. I have to believe that there is some good in people. Maybe all it takes is one person doing the right thing to draw it out, and I'm convinced people can be better, but someone has to believe in them, or people won't find any reason to do it." I pause, thinking about that. While it's sound reasoning in my mind at least, it's not particularly helpful in explaining _why_ I'm doing it right now. Many people don't back up their belief with action. "I get lonely." I finally say, deciding not to explain about missing my sister. "This isn't the first time. I often take other people in for a week or two. I can't do a lot, but it's my way of trying to make the world better, I guess."

He dips his head slightly, satisfied.

I push my chair back and stand up. "Is it okay if I ask you some questions later?"

He is immediately on alert again.

I put my hands up, and close my eyes. "I'm not going to ask about your background, or anything that you'd rather keep private... And if you don't want to answer a specific question, you can say so. It's just that I've never had a chance to talk to an Ishvalan before. You're the only one I've ever seen, so I can't help but want to ask questions about culture and religion. I couldn't ever ask anyone else." Unwilling to accept an immediate refusal, I decide to leave before he gives me a response, on the off chance he'll say something. "Well! I'm off to bed. Goodnight!" I gesture to the light next to the door. "When you feel like going to bed, the light is there."

I retreat to my room, and change, hoping that Mei won't wake up.

Can this really work?


	2. Amanda: Relatives

"Here's your coffee." I set it down on the desk. Doctor Knox is very particular about it. It had to be newly roasted, and black.

"Thanks." Doctor Knox's voice is muffled by that thing that doctors use to keep from breathing germs on their patients. In this case, I assume that it's for his own health rather than that of the corpse he is examining on the table. I creep up to the table and get a closer look at what he's doing. It appeared to be male. Cause of death was probably blunt force trauma to the head. The insides looked healthy, but I supposed it was the doctor's job to process the _entire_ corpse.

"What do you think the cause of death was?" the Doctor asked, looking at me harshly over his thick glasses. It wasn't personal, he had to protect himself from the world. As far as I could tell, it had bitten him one too many times. In any case, this question was the one I'd been waiting, longing for.

"Blunt force trauma to the head." I don't even hesitate to give my diagnosis.

Knox grunts in contempt. "Stabbed in the back. You can't see the wound, and I haven't made my way up to the chest yet." He beckons me a little closer, and runs his gloved hand over a lump on the head of the corpse. "See the bruising here? It indicates that the wound was probably a damaging one, but not fatal. The skin is broken here, but this is the thick part of the skull. The blow probably didn't damage it at all." He looks back at me, pulling away from the corpse. I take it all in sheepishly. "You can go home now Miss Barlowe. I'll finish up here."

"Thank you." I start toward the door, and then pause. I want to ask him how he's doing, if there has been anything yet between him and his son or wife. Or ask him if he'd like to go do something fun, just to bring color back into his face. I'm really worried about him, he's been like something of an uncle to me. But no matter how I think, the right words never quite come out. "Good night," I say finally, closing the door behind me.

I am condemning him to the worst fate imaginable. He's left all alone with the dead. Not just the dead. Some poor fellow who was murdered.

No wonder he hates the world so much.

As I walk down the stairs, and out the door of the building, I wonder what I could possibly do to cheer Dr. Knox up. At the moment, it seems like my hands are full though, running three jobs like this. Sometimes I get a half day off, when they don't need me in the hospital, or when the mechanic shop takes a holiday. But those are never on the same day. Now I have three guests living in my house, so I can't do much about that. After last night, I feel uncertain about asking the Ishvalan the questions I'd intended to.

* * *

I realized about midnight that I still had Melissa's makeup on. Even someone like me who never uses such things could tell that one was supposed to take it off rather than sleep in it. After all, if mascara runs when a person cries, then what must other makeup do?

I tiptoed into the hall, and to the bathroom. Even though it was a bit faded and smudged, I still felt amazed looking at myself in the mirror. It didn't look like me. I was used to looking neat, at least when I wasn't in the mechanic shop. This wasn't the neatness of a tight bun and glasses. This was something more wild, feminine, and put together than I was. And it looked good. As I looked at myself, I replayed my evening at the bar, mentally tuning out the music, the noise, and the emotions I'd actually felt at the time, and focused on the events, romanticizing it in my head. That would be something fun to look back on.

Finally, I got over looking at myself like a vain peacock, and washed it off. I don't have any of those special supplies that most do, so I used toilet paper, water, and soap. The lipstick came off easily. It was probably faded from eating and drinking so easily anyway. But when I try to take the eyeliner and mascara off my eyes with the stuff, it starts burning. A five minute job turns into a thirty minute mess of burning eyes, cussing, crying, rinsing, drying, cajoling, going after it again. It eventually came off. All of this had to take place as quietly as possible, since the Ishvalan man was sleeping just outside on my couch. I promised myself I would never use makeup again, no matter how alluring I felt when I put it on. The strain of taking it off wasn't worth it. Plus, the ugly, red eyed woman I saw in the mirror was _not_ what I wanted to turn into when I didn't look attractive.

Creeping back into the hall, I briefly looked over the rest of the house from there. The kitchen and living room lights were off; one less thing to worry about. I turned to go back to my room, and paused, wondering what the noise was that I kept hearing. Cautiously I snuck back a little, until I realized that it was the Ishvalan man. He was soaked with sweat, and hyperventilating. His face crumpled as if in pain, and for a moment, I wondered if he'd been poisoned. But then he started writhing a little, mumbling to himself, and I began to wonder instead if he had a fever.

I slid to the kitchen, put the knives away somewhere safe, and made sure there weren't any sharp objects in the room. If it wasn't a fever, it seemed like it must be psychological. PSTD probably. I didn't know anything about psychological things, I was only really interested in medicine. I just had to go back to bed and hope for the best. It would be a good break for all of us if he wasn't a sleepwalker.

I went back to bed without a second thought. I was still worried, but I had work in the morning, and there wasn't time for worrying about anything else. I needed sleep.

* * *

I almost forget to stop when I come to a traffic light and wait for the WALK sign. I shake my head, hoping to clear it a bit. Here I was thinking about how to help Dr. Knox, and instead I get pulled off on this wild tangent. Next time I may even get hit.

There is a coffee shop on the other side of the street. I got coffee for the doctor there, and I would like to go back for myself. Maybe some other time. I have to get groceries so my visitors and I can eat tonight, and while I'm doing that, I want to find a present for my sister and run by her foster parents' home. So instead, I walk past the coffee shop and into the small convenience store on the next corner.

The inside is as small as the inside of the convenience store that I work in. Probably this is good for the economy, all the competition. As quickly as I can, I get several packages of pasta, a few different varieties of vegetables, and more cheese. The produce isn't as good as it would be in the farmer stalls on the other side of Central, but I'd have to take the bus, and I really don't want to have to go across town just to get food. As it is, this produce probably won't last long since there are four people to eat it. I take my groceries to the desk and smile at the shy looking cashier.

"8,500 cens." She tells me, putting it all in a paper bag.

I lean toward the counter conspiratorially. "Do you know what I could get my niece? She's about eight years old, and I don't see her very often." I do not feel guilty about lying to the lady. It's not like she cares, and it gets me out of a lot of explaining, basically saving both of us time.

The girl glances at me from her calculations. "Well, she's too young to appreciate something like jewelry probably. What about... chocolate? Kids like sweet stuff."

I smile apologetically. "I don't know what kind to get her. Could you find some for me?"

"Uh... Yes..." She looks around behind the counter, and pulls out a tin that looks like it's full of treats. "Something like this?"

"Perfect! Thank you!"

"And that brings you up to... 8,900 cens."

I give her the money, and take my groceries. It's probably near closing time, as there are almost no people in the store. "Have a good day," I chime, walking out the door and straight into a newspaper salesman. I buy a newspaper from him for 300 cens, and start for the bus stop. Wrapping the sweets into the last page of the news section of the paper, I take a pen out of my pocket and write Rebecca's name on the outside of the package. I've lost my nerve to actually go and see her, so instead I'll just leave the package in their mailbox. I hope she remembers me. I don't see her very regularly, but I can't stand not being part of her life at all. I'm just not capable of taking care of her.

* * *

I take the bus from the Shultz's home to within walking distance of my own apartment. It's almost 9:00, but I'm okay with that. I got off work early today, but somehow I'm still exhausted by the time I get home. It suddenly occurs to me that 9:00 is not really an acceptable dinner time for most people. When I put the food away, I'll need to teach one of them the basic workings of my kitchen. Preferably someone who can cook. I'm scared to let Mei try, but then, she traveled from Xing to Amestris all by herself (to my knowledge), so maybe she's more grown up than I would expect?

I tiptoe up my 'Murder Alley,' and let myself into the house, which I left unlocked for my house guests. "I'm home!" I call out to the house, unsure what I'll find. Are they in? Is it empty? The Ishvalan and Yoki are separately looking through some of my comic collection. I find myself a little surprised, the Ishvalan man didn't strike me as the kind to read comics. Whatever work they were doing must be done by now. My bedroom door is closed, and I wince, realizing that Mei probably got tired and went to bed. "Sorry!" I whisper loudly as both men look up at me. "Don't mind me, I'm just going to put the food away."

Almost all of it goes straight into the refrigerator straight away, and the pasta I put up in the cabinet that I usually use for canned and boxed foods. I walk back into the living area with the newspaper. "Don't know if either of you are interested in the paper, but I have one." Yoki looks interested, so I hand it to him before he gets the chance to say anything.

The phone in the corner suddenly rings, and I pick it up, embarrassed. I drag the cord as far as it will reach, and make it just to kitchen where I have a little bit of privacy.

"Barlowe. Who is this?" I answer in a more or less business-like way, just in case it's someone that I do business-type stuff with.

"Amandaaaa! I've called you _five times_ now!"

"Melissa!"

"And that's another thing, what is it you're not telling me?"

"Huh?"

"Um, a man answered your phone? Sounded like an olderish man? Don't tell me you took in some more boarders!"

"Melissa..."

"You promised not to do that!"

"MELISSA!"

"What?"

I suddenly realize that I can't tell her the truth, because she's right, I _did_ promise her I would quit taking in boarders when one of them refused to leave, and she had to help me kick them out. But I feel like I have to do this. Part of it is because of what I told the Ishvalan man when he asked me yesterday, but part of it is for another reason I can't quite explain. Melissa just flat out wouldn't understand. "It's my uncle."

"Your uncle?"

"Yes... He's in town for a few days and wanted to drop in and see me. He'll be staying for a while, but please don't come over while he's here. You might never come back."

"Ha. Ha. Seriously Amanda, why do these things happen to you?"

"Because it's me."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. Oh hey! I have news!"

"News?"

"Mhm, I got a transfer today."

"Transfer?" Visions of seeing my best friend off on a train flash through my head. Melissa is really all I have of a social life. She keeps me from going insane, what's going to happen to me without her?

"Yeah, Colonel Spitfire is transferring me to Colonel Mustang's command!" I can hear the squeak in her voice, and wish I could be as excited for her as she is.

"Why?" I finally ask, relieved that she's not leaving Central.

Over the phone, Melissa huffs. "That's it? Why? Aren't you excited for me?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, if you're happy, I'm happy. But why?"

"Well, the Colonel's only been in Central a few weeks, and it turns out he's understaffed. I think all the different colonels are chipping some men in, because they want to get an idea what kind of work he does. They're giving him all their lowest ranking people though, so it's not as if he's going to do well from getting all of us..."

"Melissa, you're great at your job!"

"Well, whatever. It's a complicated political move, there's your 'why' Amanda."

"Sorry, I'm not trying to upset you."

She sighs. "I know. Anyway, so, guess who's thinking about calling you back!"

"Really?"

"Really! I overheard a conversation in the cafeteria, the guy you were with, he was talking to one of the other men who work with Mustang!"

"He works with Mustang?"

"Yeah, and I got his name. Jean Havoc?"

"That's what he said it was."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Well, are you going to go out with him?"

"Oh."

"What the heck does that mean?"

"Sorry Melissa, I just haven't given it that much thought. I mean, he hasn't even called me back yet."

"What if you just missed his call?"

"Well, if he's worth my going out with him, he'll call me again, because he'll correctly assume that I wasn't at home, and so I didn't get his call."

"Ooooh!" Melissa's irritated noise makes me wonder how much longer this call is going to last. "Fine! But still, would you go out with him?"

I toy with the phone cord. "Probably... I mean, I don't know. I have to take care of my uncle and... stuff."

"..."

I'm worried the phone went dead. "Melissa?"

"Did you meet another guy?" Her tone is accusatory.

"What? No!"

"Hmm... Okay, well... Give Havoc a shot, I think he's a nice guy."

"Okay Melissa. _IF_ he calls, I will 'give him a shot.'" I say tiredly. "You know, I'd invite you over to chat, because talking over the phone is kind of tiring, but my uncle is here..."

"No, no! It's fine. I need to get off and ...do stuff..."

"Oh, okay." I'm relieved, and it doesn't feel like there's anything more to be gained from this conversation. "Then... um, we can catch up later. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight 'Manda!"

I hang up, and put the phone back in its corner near the table. "I'm sorry about that."

The Ishvalan man looks up, and I see the look on his face. Apparently my phone conversation didn't bother him at all.

Yoki looks up. "Did you say that your uncle is coming to stay?" His voice sounds suspicious and I wonder what exactly these people have been up to. But I promised I wouldn't pry into their background.

"No. Well, I mean, yeah, I did say that..." I sputter for a second, and then finally calm myself down enough to really explain what that was all about. "Melissa is my best friend, but she doesn't like it when guests stay over, so I assumed you must have answered the phone. When she started asking questions, I told her that you're my uncle, staying over for a while. It should keep her from coming over, so you won't have to worry about her coming in and out. You did answer the phone, right?"

Yoki looks uncomfortable. "Yes. It kept ringing, so I thought if I answered it..."

I nod. "I see. I'll just unplug it during the day, so that won't happen while you're here."

"Well, I'll go to bed now..."

"Oh, hold on!" I call. He pauses halfway to the door of the guest room. "Do you know how to cook?"

"Yes. We used your kitchen and our own food to make dinner tonight..."

"Oh, then never mind. I was going to show you around, but if you've figured it out, then I guess it's no big deal."

He leaves, and I'm sitting on the couch with the Ishvalan man. "Are you planning on going to bed now?" I ask. I haven't managed to get my thoughts all in order from last night when I told him I wanted to talk to him. I know there are a lot of things that I'm just dying to ask him about, but I haven't lined out the exact questions I want to ask. I just want to know more about Ishval. The religion, the culture, the clothes... What little I know of the religion is what kept me going when things got tough, but there is so much more that I would like to know. But I'm home later than most people would be, and I can't be sure if the Ishvalan is an early-to-bed type like his companions.

"I wasn't." He sets aside one of my comics, and to my embarrassment, it's my fifth volume of Skip Beat that he's reading. He seems the last person on earth that would read a girly manga set in a different world, and revolving primarily around the life of a sixteen year old girl who aspires to be an actress. I see that next to the chair are varying manga, including Bleach, Naruto, and Silver Spoon. "You said you had questions to ask me?"

It seems so weirdly business-like. "You read Skip Beat?" I ask, as if in a daze.

The man shrugs, and I realize that it's very, very off topic. "I don't generally read comics at all."

"Oh." I say, feeling foolish. "Um... Well, first of all, I know Mei Chang, and Yoki, but I don't know what I can call you."

"Ishvalan's names are sacred." He says this with such an air of finality, I figure the conversation is over. "We speak our names only with pride."

"I know at least that much. I wouldn't arbitrarily ask for your name."

The man looks at me, and I can almost see the wheels turning. He's trying to measure me and decide how dangerous I am, I'm guessing. Does he see me as just another Amestrian?

"I just wanted to know what I could call you. I can't address you directly, and that's bothering me." I explain.

"You can call me anything you like." He sounds disinterested. Keeping him talking is going to be more of a chore than I thought.

I think for a minute. I'm going to have to come up with a good name. I wanted to just call him 'Mister,' because I read it out of a book recently, where a girl didn't know one of the character's names until the very end, and that's what she did. But I feel that that'll make me seem like Yoki, and I just can't seem to bear that thought. None of the other male names that come to mind seem to fit. "Can I call you 'E'?" I blurt out. I cover my mouth with my hands, embarrassed that this one tiny thought that branched off of the million doing their little dances in my brain managed to get out.

He frowns. "Why?"

"Because then if I want to be formal, I can call you Mr. E." I give a small smile. "Since I don't know very much about you, saying that you're a 'mystery' seems appropriate."

He shrugs, and says nothing, but I think I see the corner of his mouth tilt up the tiniest degree.

I'm embarrassed again when the silence stretches on. "But it doesn't seem like much of a name, really..." I run my manga, my novels, everything through my head. Who does he remind me of. "But actually, can I call you Randal Oland?" I ask.

Small shrug. Guess it's fine.

"Um... So I did want to ask you some questions, but if you're tired, I can save them for later. I mean, it is kind of late, I guess..." I start tidying up my space, and put my comics back up on my shelf, the ones I know that he's done reading.

"Okay."

I take that 'okay' to mean that he wants his space, and decide to leave him in peace. "Okay... Well then, good night! I'm sorry I kept you up late. Um... Yeah. So tomorrow I don't have to go to work as early. If you're hungry, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I restocked a little. If there's something you really want, let me know, and I'll pick it up whenever I get a chance." I start for my bedroom door, and then remember how restless his sleep seemed, and step back a little. "I also... um..."

When Randal looks at me, his face seems blank as it normally does. Even when it's blank, it still seems like he's frowning.

"Are you okay? Like, do you have a fever maybe, or..."

His face is still blank.

"Um... yeah, never mind, I'm just an idiot. Good night!" I rush back into the safety of my room, and change. My sleeping bag that I dragged out of the closet yesterday is still there, right where I left it. Mei is curled up in my bed with her little cat creature, and I hope that at least she's sleeping well. She's adorable, and it's good to have a child around again, even if I'm no good with them.

I don't want to wake her up, but I'm not ready to go to sleep, so I pick up the novel that I'm in the middle of reading, 'Moonraker's Bride' with the intent of using my flashlight. It's a fascinating story that I've already read several times, but still love every single time I read it.

I get right into it, and am completely riveted until I check my watch, and realize that it's almost two in the morning. I can't seem to stop reading though, and end up falling asleep reading. At some point I have the good sense to turn off the flashlight.

I wake up when I hear the doorbell. My groggy mind is unsure how to interpret the signals, but my body already has me up and at the door. I am a mess. I can't see it, but I can feel it. I force myself to the door, and open it just enough for my head to poke out so I can see who is looking for me. "What do you want?" I mumble, wiping drool from my bottom lip to disguise the fact that I've _just_ been awakened.

Melissa huffs. "Girl, you look terrible! Why aren't you up?"

I give her a flat look. "It's Saturday."

"Right! And you have the day off, so what are you doing? Get dressed, we're going to go do something!"

"Melissa, if I had the day off, I would have known about it before now."

"It's okay! I called Lisel, and told her that you have family, been under a lot of stress, and need a break! She understands, seems that she has some family around too, and told me that you didn't have to come in today. Surprise!"

"I would never do that for a regular job-"

Melissa rolls her eyes at me. "She's closing for the day, so it's fine! She said that you being tired was just the excuse she needed."

"It's a _family_ store!"

Melissa crosses her arms over her chest. "Look, are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to let me in?"

I look back over my shoulder, and see Randal still sleeping on the couch. "What time is it Melissa?"

She looked at her watch. "It's... almost six..."

I clearly can't let Melissa in. Not with Mr. Oland sleeping there, she'll ask questions. It will look really bad, because she knows that there's a guest room, and if he's not in it, who is? She also knows that I would sleep on the couch myself rather than make a family member do it. She can't know I'm sleeping on the floor. But Melissa is a force to be reckoned with, and she will let herself in, because we're friends, and she has never known me to really need that much privacy...

Instead, I come outside. "Melissa... I wasn't totally straight with you, I have an uncle and two cousins staying here. You're going to wake them up! Let me go inside, change, and leave them a note telling them where everything is, and then I'm all yours."

"Fine." She sighs, and leans back against the outer wall of 'Murder Alley'.

"Great. Thanks." I rush back inside, aware that even though she said it was fine, I probably don't have much time. I change into something I can wear in public as quickly and quietly as I can, which involves a lot of toe-stubbing, finding out that my shirt is inside out, and whispered curses.

Melissa is standing in my living room when I come out.

* * *

 **Sorry guys, I didn't plan on doing two Amanda chapters in a row. Hopefully the next one will be a Roy Mustang chapter. I'm putting some things together for him. Not sure when I'll be able to publish it though.**

 **I don't know anything medical. If it sounds real, it comes from Hawaii 5-0, or other crime show. So if any of you reading this are doctors and something I said was completely ridiculous, please chock it up to that.**

 **Cens: I don't know exactly how much cens are worth, so I'm making it about equal to Senegalese currency. 500 cens (cfa)= $1.00**

 **Randal Oland: Randal Oland is the main character of the anime Pumpkin Scissors. The voice actor for him is the same as the voice actor for Scar in Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, so I thought it would be funny to establish the link between them, even if it was nothing but a semi-private otaku joke.**

 **Manga: There's really no grounding for it, but I thought it would be a nice touch, especially Amanda being really into a lot of introverted-type activities. Scar reminds me of my best friend, and while he wouldn't voluntarily search down comics, he would probably read them if they were there and there wasn't really anything else to do around the place.**


End file.
